


Landfall

by misura



Category: The Hunt for Red October (1990)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Character Death Fix, Hospitals, M/M, Post-Movie(s)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-20
Updated: 2013-01-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:33:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 960
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misura/pseuds/misura
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>A religious man, Ramius reflects, hands clasped together, might have prayed.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Landfall

**Author's Note:**

> prompt: _Ramius/Borodin, Borodin is shot but survives - Ramius stands vigil_ (ninurta)

Ramius knows, has learnt, to let each thing wait until its appointed time. There's a time for accepting that one's country puts little stock in justice, and a time for rebellion. A time for marriage, and a time to cut all ties. A time to fight, and a time to run.

A time to reason, and a time to give in to emotion.

 

Five steps from the bed to the door, and five steps back.

Little enough space, Ramius supposes, to feel trapped, and yet, upon reaching the door, the distance seems ever so slightly too great for comfort, too great not to wish to cross it more quickly.

Two hours, sixteen minutes and a handful of seconds until the American doctors have finished their work, given him back Borodin with the cheerful accompanying message that they've done for him all that lies within their power.

A religious man, Ramius reflects, hands clasped together, might have prayed.

 

"He's going to be fine, you know."

His other officers, those stalwart few, would have known better than to impose. Even Borodin himself, had the situation been slightly different, would not have ventured inside without an urgent reason.

_Americans_ , Ramius thinks. "You are a doctor as well? An impressive resume for someone of your tender age, Mr Ryan."

"Jack," Ryan says. He probably means it to be friendly.

There are few people in this world Ramius feels comfortable addressing by their first name, and one of them is lying in a foreign hospital bed, near death.

"The doctors - " Ryan starts.

"I know what the doctors have said," Ramius says, cutting off more of the same empty reassurances.

Ryan looks slightly abashed for perhaps two seconds, before he says: "All right," and slips out of the door, for a moment allowing Ramius the hope that that will be the end of it.

It isn't, of course.

 

Seven steps from the bed to the door, and seven steps back.

Ryan has come back carrying a chair, to add to the one already there, the one Ramius has seen no reason to use. (He prefers staying on his feet, at the ready for whatever may come.) In typical American fashion, Ryan's placed his chair directly in Ramius's path, lengthening the journey to the door by two steps.

"He dreamt about settling down in Montana," Ramius offers, once keeping silent has proven ineffective in getting Ryan to leave. "Wintering in Arizona."

"I'm sure that can be arranged," Ryan says, and it's probably not intended to sound rude, to rebuff an attempt at polite hospitality.

Ramius manages not to sigh. It helps that he's had a lifetime of biting on his tongue, of hardly ever saying what he thinks and of nearly never speaking of what he feels.

"I believe there was mention of a wife, as well. Two wives. One in each state."

There is no confidence to breach here, not really. There is a certain comfort to be found, though, in giving voice to these things, in simply talking to someone without needing to worry about the consequences.

"And a husband in a third state?" Ryan asks, sounding more curious than anything else. "Not a fan of Montana or Arizona? There's some good fishing to be had in Montana."

_Secrets,_ Ramius thinks. For years, not even the KGB has guessed at this - this perfect lever to be used against both him and Borodin. (He'd planned for it, considered how best to handle a situation where either of them (or both, more likely) would be confronted by an ordinary-looking man opening an ordinary-looking briefcase, drawing out some sort of evidence - pictures, perhaps, for all that nobody grows up to hold the rank they held without knowing how to be discrete.)

"Is there, now?"

Ryan shrugs. "Or so I've been told."

"Ah," Ramius says. "Hearsay."

In the bed, Borodin doesn't stir.

Ramius takes the second chair, the one that's been there all along, and sits down to wait.

 

There are questions that the Americans want answers to.

There is, at this exact moment, only one question Ramius wants an answer to.

It's not, perhaps, a quite equal exchange, but they make do, as is the American way. In Russia, Ramius knows, sentiment always must needs come second to practicality, as personal loyalty comes second to patriotism.

Ryan hovers around - he has a family of his own, Ramius learns: a wife and a daughter. It surprises him, a little, that someone like Ryan would take the time to create a family, rather than burying himself in his work completely.

 

Borodin comes to, speaking in Russian, and Ramius realizes he's been talking English himself, for the better part of the past week now. It's hopeful, he thinks; proof that he hasn't waited too long, that there's still time to start over, to have a new life.

"You had us all quite worried for a while," Ramius says, allowing himself a smile he knows Borodin might be able to hear, even if he might not see it.

"My apologies, captain."

"Well, next time someone starts shooting, you might wish to duck." Ramius doesn't point out he's no longer a Captain. Borodin's not an idiot; he knows.

"Yes," Borodin says. "I believe I will attempt to do that."

"Good man."

"The Americans - are they - ?"

"Cheap," Ramius says. "It appears, we are to be sharing your house in Montana - if not, I trust, your well-rounded wife. However, they have promised to get you a pick-up truck. Second-hand, I believe, but there you are."

"Ah," Borodin says, eyes slipping shut again and smiling a little. "It is good. It is good, captain."

Not entirely a question, but Ramius hears a hint of one, all the same.

"Yes," he says. "Yes, Vasily. It is good."


End file.
